Ficlet: Disarm (1/1)
I've started my post-HBP writing. I have a longish fic underway, a Filch/Pince ficlet in the works, and tonight's ficlet. This is a ficlet I wrote for rainpuddle13, who is a doll and didn't complain when I promised to write her Draco/Ginny and then presented her with blatant Draco/Pansy.
Disarm
Pansy slid her arms around Draco’s neck, leaning over the back of the low black couch that sat near the Slytherin common room’s fire to kiss him. He didn’t turn, so she settled for planting a kiss on his smooth cheek.
“Have you been here all evening?” she asked.
Draco shrugged.
Pansy released him, and carefully perched on the back of the couch. If Draco was feeling like himself, then she knew that he would begin to crane his neck and tickle her sides, trying to see up her skirt from this perfect vantage point.
He didn’t even look at her.
“Draco, what the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded. Pansy had never been a patient girl. She knew what she wanted, and she took it. And she hated other people not cooperating with her whims, like Draco was now.
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he replied. His eyes hadn’t left the fire yet, and he kept rubbing his arms as though he were cold.
“If you’re cold, I can warm you up,” Pansy offered, running a hand along Draco’s shoulders, which tensed up noticeably.
“Draco,” she said, hating the way her voice went up into a whine.
“You wouldn’t understand. No one here does,” Draco said in a whisper.
Pansy couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled in her throat. “Of course I’ll understand, whatever it is. And even if I don’t... you’ll feel better if you share. Trust me.”
Draco shook his head, a ghost of a sardonic smile crossing his features. Pansy wanted to smack him and force him to tell her what was wrong, but knew that it was hopeless to try and pry information out of him when he didn’t want to reveal. Pansy decided to go down another avenue of inquiry. “That Weasley girl is something, isn’t she?”
“What?” Draco asked, much too quickly.
Pansy raised her eyebrow. “I’m just saying that she’s one blatant tart. She’s gone through, what, a boy from each house by now?”
“I don’t remember her dating a Hufflepuff or Slytherin,” Draco replied.
“Please- did you see the way she attacked Smith at that Quidditch game? A girl doesn’t get that upset over sports commentary,” Pansy said.
Draco laughed quietly.
“I thought she went for tall and dark, but apparently she has a soft spot for blonds,” Pansy said, watching Draco carefully. His response to her comment on the train hadn’t yielded any response, but he was much less controlled now.
“Do we have to keep talking about the Weasley girl?” Draco said abruptly.
“Did I strike a nerve?” Pansy snapped. “What have you been doing with her?”
“What? Nothing!” Draco insisted.
“Don’t lie to me, Draco,” Pansy said coldly.
“I’ve never touched that blood traitor,” Draco said, starting to stand up. “Can we drop this?”
“You’re acting too skittish for me to believe you,” Pansy said, pushing him back down on the couch.
He shoved her arms aside, and hissed, “Never lay a hand on me again.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that happening,” Pansy snapped. “I’m going to tell everyone about you and the blood traitor. See how big a shot you are then.”
Draco paled. “Pansy, don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not true!” he insisted.
“Prove it,” she said.
Draco looked her straight in the eye, then slowly unbuttoned his cuff and pushed up his left sleeve. “If you tell anyone...” he threatened.
Pansy barely heard him. She stared at the ugly mark tattooing his forearm, the filthy symbol Draco had bragged he would one day possess but she had never quite believed him. Her family had never thrown themselves in with the Dark Lord, but she knew better than anyone that Draco’s had.
But he was just a child- she was just a child, and it was much too soon for this to happen. Her beautiful boyfriend wasn’t supposed to be a Death Eater until later, until some undetermined future date when the war was over and it didn’t matter anymore.
“Why did the mention of Ginny Weasley upset you, then?” Pansy asked. There was no way a Death Eater would be involved with a blood traitor.
“My father displeased the Dark Lord,” Draco said quietly, eyes scanning the common room suspiciously. “A few years back, he gave a personal belonging of the Dark Lord to the Weasley girl for what he thought was a foolproof plot, and it was destroyed.”
Pansy remembered whispers of Ginny Weasley in conjunction to the Chamber of Secrets, to the wicked monster of Slytherin and the Petrified students, to a heroic deed of Harry Potter.
“She’s the reason this happened,” Draco said, carefully re-buttoning his sleeve. “That’s why everything fell apart.”
Pansy didn’t know what to say, so she sat silently, watching the flames flicker in the fireplace.
Disarm
Pansy slid her arms around Draco’s neck, leaning over the back of the low black couch that sat near the Slytherin common room’s fire to kiss him. He didn’t turn, so she settled for planting a kiss on his smooth cheek.
“Have you been here all evening?” she asked.
Draco shrugged.
Pansy released him, and carefully perched on the back of the couch. If Draco was feeling like himself, then she knew that he would begin to crane his neck and tickle her sides, trying to see up her skirt from this perfect vantage point.
He didn’t even look at her.
“Draco, what the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded. Pansy had never been a patient girl. She knew what she wanted, and she took it. And she hated other people not cooperating with her whims, like Draco was now.
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he replied. His eyes hadn’t left the fire yet, and he kept rubbing his arms as though he were cold.
“If you’re cold, I can warm you up,” Pansy offered, running a hand along Draco’s shoulders, which tensed up noticeably.
“Draco,” she said, hating the way her voice went up into a whine.
“You wouldn’t understand. No one here does,” Draco said in a whisper.
Pansy couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled in her throat. “Of course I’ll understand, whatever it is. And even if I don’t... you’ll feel better if you share. Trust me.”
Draco shook his head, a ghost of a sardonic smile crossing his features. Pansy wanted to smack him and force him to tell her what was wrong, but knew that it was hopeless to try and pry information out of him when he didn’t want to reveal. Pansy decided to go down another avenue of inquiry. “That Weasley girl is something, isn’t she?”
“What?” Draco asked, much too quickly.
Pansy raised her eyebrow. “I’m just saying that she’s one blatant tart. She’s gone through, what, a boy from each house by now?”
“I don’t remember her dating a Hufflepuff or Slytherin,” Draco replied.
“Please- did you see the way she attacked Smith at that Quidditch game? A girl doesn’t get that upset over sports commentary,” Pansy said.
Draco laughed quietly.
“I thought she went for tall and dark, but apparently she has a soft spot for blonds,” Pansy said, watching Draco carefully. His response to her comment on the train hadn’t yielded any response, but he was much less controlled now.
“Do we have to keep talking about the Weasley girl?” Draco said abruptly.
“Did I strike a nerve?” Pansy snapped. “What have you been doing with her?”
“What? Nothing!” Draco insisted.
“Don’t lie to me, Draco,” Pansy said coldly.
“I’ve never touched that blood traitor,” Draco said, starting to stand up. “Can we drop this?”
“You’re acting too skittish for me to believe you,” Pansy said, pushing him back down on the couch.
He shoved her arms aside, and hissed, “Never lay a hand on me again.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that happening,” Pansy snapped. “I’m going to tell everyone about you and the blood traitor. See how big a shot you are then.”
Draco paled. “Pansy, don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not true!” he insisted.
“Prove it,” she said.
Draco looked her straight in the eye, then slowly unbuttoned his cuff and pushed up his left sleeve. “If you tell anyone...” he threatened.
Pansy barely heard him. She stared at the ugly mark tattooing his forearm, the filthy symbol Draco had bragged he would one day possess but she had never quite believed him. Her family had never thrown themselves in with the Dark Lord, but she knew better than anyone that Draco’s had.
But he was just a child- she was just a child, and it was much too soon for this to happen. Her beautiful boyfriend wasn’t supposed to be a Death Eater until later, until some undetermined future date when the war was over and it didn’t matter anymore.
“Why did the mention of Ginny Weasley upset you, then?” Pansy asked. There was no way a Death Eater would be involved with a blood traitor.
“My father displeased the Dark Lord,” Draco said quietly, eyes scanning the common room suspiciously. “A few years back, he gave a personal belonging of the Dark Lord to the Weasley girl for what he thought was a foolproof plot, and it was destroyed.”
Pansy remembered whispers of Ginny Weasley in conjunction to the Chamber of Secrets, to the wicked monster of Slytherin and the Petrified students, to a heroic deed of Harry Potter.
“She’s the reason this happened,” Draco said, carefully re-buttoning his sleeve. “That’s why everything fell apart.”
Pansy didn’t know what to say, so she sat silently, watching the flames flicker in the fireplace.